If We Shadows Have Offended
by eprime
Summary: For the marauders, sleep is but the next greatest adventure. Remus/James, Remus/Sirius.


_A Change Came O'er the Spirit of My Dream -Lord Byron_

_Dreams and anguish bring us together. -Eugene Ionesco_

Divination had always been treated as a soft option among the four of them, something of a joke, but Remus held a secret liking for it. The idea of being able to spy out the future was just too intriguing, and when James and Sirius and Peter had spent their class time staring into their crystals and trying to outdo each other by describing any number of impending melodramatic deaths, Remus had been concentrating hard, willing the glass to show him something true.

He had a preference for the cards, and the others usually indulged him when he wanted to do a reading for them. He read his own cards at least once a week, fascinated to see how some cards shifted and some stayed the same week after week. Sirius had given him a beautiful deck one Christmas. The images moved, of course. They made mysterious gestures that seemed to add layers and layers to the possible meanings that Remus endeavored to suss out.

He had even gone so far as to take on an extra credit project for Professor Sharma, and he spent long hours in the library researching cross-cultural similarities and differences in divinatory symbology. James had said Remus was only barmy over Professor Sharma's waist-length black hair and the colorful saris she sometimes wore because no one in their right mind would voluntarily spend so many hours on something so incredibly dull and useless as divination. _Lupin and Swapna_, Sirius would sing song, making an effort to pop out the sound of the p's with particular emphasis, his lips pursing like a kiss.

They all sang a different tune when Remus stumbled across the spell. Remus had been in the restricted section, consulting a reference that had turned out to be not exactly what he needed, focusing almost solely on oneiromancy, the interpretation of dreams, instead. It had been a fascinating read, nonetheless.

The spell was fairly simple, a kind of dream magic. It did require a certain cleverness and strength of will, which none of them were lacking, as well as the ingestion of a simple potion with easy to obtain ingredients. James was instantly on board and Sirius followed, though he looked much less certain than he normally did when a new adventure was in the works. Peter thought it sounded grand, as well, and all that was left was to make the potion and decide whose dreams they would all enter first.

Peter won the toss and that first night they had gathered on his bed to swallow the potion together. They had tried to go to sleep then, but their heightened excitement kept them all wide awake and staring at their curtains until they gave up and gathered together again, chattering away until one by one they began yawning and sleep crept upon them.

_drifting__ into _

_ over exposed photo_

_ bright sunlight_

_ grass, impossibly green_

_ lake of lapping waters_

_ laughing voices, echoes_

Peter was running ahead, faster than the boys that followed. Pounding down the green hill he gave a whoop of joy and stretched his arms. Effortlessly, he caught an updraft and swooped above their heads. He looped and glided as the other three ran along under him, shouting up with cupped hands.

_How do you do it? Tell us how!_

_Like this!_

Peter held his breath and swam through the air with frog-like motions. Sirius laughed and leapt into the sky, his cheeks bulging out as he gulped in air and let it surge upward again. James and Remus watched him soar higher then sweep alarmingly low to the ground as he let out a laughing breath. Another inhale and he was up and off, and James and Remus grinned and hurtled down the steep hill, fast, too fast until they lost their footing and whoooosh...

The four boys skimmed the waters, leaving frothing finger trails in their wake. The spray hit their faces with sharp delight and they splashed into the cool waters. Slow-rolling waves riding them up and down. Glimpses of shoreline and secret landscapes beneath the surface. Head over heels tumbling in clear, womb water...

_oblivion_

The first dream only whetted their appetites, and the next day, exultant, they began planning how to make it even better.

"It was brilliant, totally brilliant." James clapped a hand on Peter's back, and Peter fairly glowed with pride. "But it was over too soon."

Nobody argued with that.

"Yes, and, I'm not sure how to describe it exactly," Remus said, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. "But I felt rather sticky, like one does in dreams. Do you know what I mean? Only, I wanted to do things at certain times, but I wasn't able to make myself. Like I was all wrapped up in candy floss-my limbs and my mind. Things just rather happened. I did feel _more_ aware, more...lucid than usual dreams, but it wasn't quite enough."

Sirius nodded.

"We want to be more in control, so we can make whatever we want happen."

"How are we going to do that," Peter asked.

So Remus read all he could find on the subject of controlling dreams and distilled his research into one simple but key concept-focus.

"So we agree on what we want to do and before we go to sleep we visualize it over and over." James reclined on the bed looking pleased with himself, and obviously contemplating the endless possibilities that awaited them.

"Yes." Remus agreed. "And throughout the day, when we think of it, we tell ourselves that we _are_ going to do it. The books said it's important to make it seem a done deal."

"And we do those breathing and muscle exercise things in bed, too." Peter reminded them.

"So whose turn will it be next?"

Of course, it was Sirius who had asked, and they all agreed he could be next. That night didn't go quite as planned either, but gradually they got a bit better about controlling their communal dreaming. It seemed that it wasn't quite so easy as they thought to clear one's mind and focus only on the agreed upon scenario.

That was brought home quite clearly the time Sirius had had a run in with Regulus in the Charms corridor and that night they ended up in Grimmauld Place, chased by headless house elves and Walburga Black, her eyes mad and glowing red as she cast unspeakable hexes through room after room filled with sickly green light. They had all woken shaken and speechless, and they had huddled up together on Sirius' bed like puppies until the first light of dawn came through the windows.

Other things began to affect their dreaming, as well. One night, they were all in Peter's dream again enjoying a particularly lucid experience when things began to shift. Seamlessly, they shifted from a dream of racing motorbikes down the streets of a deserted, apocalyptic London (Sirius's idea), right into...

_...a huge room, crowded with rows and rows of shelves and dust-coated relics and knickknacks..._

Peter motioned them over with a wave, his eyes bright with some feverish emotion. He gestured to a hole in the wall they had only just noticed, and they gathered around and peered through right into the seventh-year Slytherin girls' loo. Florence Wilkes emerged from the foggy air, a towel wrapped around her middle, and glided to the full length mirror that adorned the wall.

Remus could feel a dreamy tug in his groin, his arousal instant but muted-a delicious sort of easy, overarching desire paired with the seemingly conflicting urge to rut and grind with urgent, yet treacle dream-speed need. It was a force beyond his control and as Florence let her towel drop he thrust his hips into the air, no need for hands and fingers, as the others did the same. Breasts...lips...rounded arse...tight, curling hair between thighs...and they came and came and came and came...separate and together...

...and fell awake in their solitary beds.

In the morning they eyed each other sheepishly and made jokes and laughed. A Slytherin, eh? They had prodded. You, dog! And they asked Peter if such a room really existed, and Peter had blushed and grinned and shook his head and denied it. But Remus really should have known it wouldn't end there.

Those dreams really couldn't be predicted. One night, against Remus' wishes, James and Sirius had produced a stack of dirty magazines from the dodgy recesses beneath James' bed and insisted they all go through each one until lights out. But that night they'd ended up at the Quidditch World Cup performing never before seen feats of Quidditch strategy and prowess, all under the ebullient direction of James Potter-world famous and much adored seeker going by the reaction of the faceless cheering crowds in the stands. Sirius had spent the next day making crude remarks about James and his broomstick, until James had hexed his mouth shut during evening meal and they'd both ended up in detention.

They could never really be sure when their planning would pay out or when the dreams would take on a life of their own, and they were never able to isolate the mitigating factors. The only thing Remus knew for sure was that their control, if they ever really had it, was slipping away little by little. And still they couldn't stop.

The next time it was James' turn they were running down a nameless corridor in Hogwarts searching for something, it wasn't really clear what, when they heard Filch's voice up ahead and McGonagall's voice behind them. Panicked, they split and ran, corridors appearing out of thin air in front of them. Remus pounded down a hall that stretched out and out, passing flickering sconces and black portraits, adrenaline spurring him on until a hand reached out and grasped his wrist and he reeled around ready to fight with tooth and nail and saw James.

_...and James pulled him into an empty room_...

...and they were kissing, chastely at first, full sets of Hogwarts robes and uniforms between them...then Remus, laid out on the stones of the floor, but not cold or uncomfortable, a throbbing ache inside making him reach up to James...jumpers and ties disappearing and their chests were bare and pressed up against each other.

_James_, Remus said and James kissed him and it was complicated figuring out how tongues and lips moved together but they did and they rubbed and arched inelegantly but good...good...oh...oh...

Sirius had looked at them the next morning and asked what happened to them, and without looking at each other they said they had ran and ran until they woke up. Sirius said nothing.

Another night, Peter's dream, and they were in the kitchens, tables spread high with Turkish delight and Yorkshire pudding, pickled tongue and peppermint ice cream, mince pies and steaming dishes of shepherd's pie, golden platters piled high with crisp apples and cucumber sandwiches, creamers and sugar bowls and dainty china pots piping hot with steaming fragrant tea.

Their fingers and chins were sticky with juices, savory and sweet, and Remus focused with gluttonous greed until his eyes met James' and they melted away into a new room. Only...Remus was naked and his consternation must have shown on his face because James said...

_It's all right, Moony. You can have my cloak_.

And they were on a bed, both naked, and Remus could do nothing but hold on tightly and let James kiss him and kiss him back and the skin of their cocks rubbed against each other like velvet velvet velv...

Sirius didn't ask them what happened the next morning, only shot them suspicious glances and left for breakfast. Peter suggested that maybe the ingredients weren't fresh enough and they should make another batch, so they did.

It was Sirius' turn next and the dream started off badly. They were all sitting in McGonagall's office waiting for detention, Sirius between Remus and James and Peter perched on her desk, surveying them like a judge waiting to pass sentence.

...and James asks...

_What are we doing here?_

_Waiting,_

_For what?_

_To see where you go_.

_We don't go anywhere_.

...and Sirius turns wide accusing eyes on both of them and they are on McGonagall's desk and Peter and Sirius are sitting in the chairs in front of them...and Remus doesn't want to do this now...not now...but he and James are kissing and it is a hundred times better than before...exquisite and shameful and _wrong_ but he is crying out and writhing beneath James and eyes...eyes...everywhere and he is coming apart in intense, white waves...

Sirius' black mood keeps them apart for a week and they all pretend to be busy with other things. Peter actually gets a date with Florence and Remus concentrates on improving his Potions grade. A week after that James finally convinces Lily to give him a chance and everyone breathes easier. Remus throws away the rest of their stock of potion without saying anything.

Weeks later, after Sirius has made a confession to Remus and the two are tangled together under the covers in Sirius' bed, he asks Remus, "Why not me?"

"It was only a dream," Remus answers.

And that's what he tells himself over the next few years every time he dreams about James.


End file.
